


try, try again

by ribbonelle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cohabitation, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ironhide had another chance at trying to make amends. He had never been more unsure in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	try, try again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercuryMapleKey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/gifts).



> relating to the two things i've wrote about them before in a post-stockades au! [this](http://ribbonelle.tumblr.com/post/115567692852/wasp-ironhide-post-stockade-angst-so-in-this) and [this](http://ribbonelle.tumblr.com/post/128775521592/4-things-you-said-over-the-phone-2), there's a LOT of ironhide’s thoughts. also there’s humanesque kitchen appliances?? the time units are all hecked up too hahah. this isn’t really how i wanted it to turn out, but….happy belated birthday cap’n! may this ship sails ever strongly. love, your first mate

Wasp was in the Iaconian Rehabilitation Institute for 5 orbital cycles. While he had been declared fit to rejoin the society under surveillance, the entirety of the Institute knew that they had to cut him loose a little earlier than they were supposed to. The patient named Wasp was stable enough, until certain subjects were brought up in a conversation with him. Nothing seemed to alleviate his abnormal behavior when it came to the designation ‘Bumblebee’ or the topic of his time in the stockades.

It took Wasp 4 orbital cycles to put his signature on an agreement of the mech that was to be his caretaker. Ironhide was grateful that Wasp agreed to be under his care, even if getting there was an arduous and upsetting process. Ironhide wasn’t going to complain. Not many people got a second chance at things in life.

Wasp probably shouldn’t have agreed. Wasp could have started anew, from scratch, be away from everyone who was ever tied to his painful past. Wasp should have had the choice to do whatever he wanted, lived however he wanted to live instead of following orders from the Guard; haven’t they done enough?

But he did agree, and Ironhide was selfish. He wanted to try and fix whatever was done to Wasp. He was aware that he most likely never would be able to right their wrongs, but...he could try.

He was going to pick Wasp up today. Ironhide spent the last three cycles making sure his quarters were acceptable, cleaned and organized, restocked everything he needed to from energon to medical supplies. He cleared out his apartment’s gym to serve as Wasp’s room. He did everything with an almost frantic edge, one that he didn’t notice till he stood before Wasp’s future room with his hands shaking.  He ignored it.

It’d be difficult. Wasp was...difficult, lately, and he’d never been that easy to get along with. He had facets to him, sides that Ironhide had slowly, accidentally discovered back when they were at camp. He was friends with Wasp then probably because Wasp _wanted_ them to be friends. It was an intentional companionship. Their situation now was wildly different, however.

Ironhide didn’t let himself think too much about it.

//

“Here are his necessary documents; these are the numbers you can contact in case of emergencies or queries,” the nurse pushed a box towards Ironhide, after all the datapads, “Here are his belongings.”

Wasp was silently fuming; glaring at the nurse like looks could kill. It wasn’t difficult to understand why.

“Okay, thanks,” Ironhide nodded graciously, then addressed Wasp, “Get that, buddy, will you? Arms are full.”

Which was partially true, and Wasp shot him a glance before walking closer and taking the box from the nurse’s hands. He huffed, “Can still carry things. I’m not disabled.” He left without another word, standing at the transport vehicle Ironhide had arrived in. Ironhide only gave the nurse a semi-apologetic smile, not really feeling sorry for him.

“Anything else you gotta give me?”

“No,” the mech said a little sorely, “Meetings are every two decacycles, health checks as well. Please do not hesitate to call us anytime you feel the need to. Be alert of his condition, always.”

Ironhide couldn’t really help the face he was making, but he nodded anyway, “Yeah. Thanks.” He joined Wasp and unlocked the vehicle for him, and they got inside to leave.

Wasp dumped the box of his belongings in the back of Ironhide’s transport, then folded his arms as he settled down in his seat up front, “What an idiot. I hope I never see him again.”

“He really was kinda iffy,” Ironhide agreed, “I don’t wanna see him again, too.”

Wasp snorted in amusement, and for a while, Ironhide felt like everything was normal again.

//

The feeling of camaraderie lasted till they reached his apartment, of course. They had said nothing during the journey, the silence wasn’t stifling at all, it was actually really nice. But they reached Ironhide’s place, and Wasp seemed to be physically on edge.

Ironhide felt his earlier hope dissipate, slowly.

“So this is it,” Ironhide tried anyway, making sure his voice didn’t betray him, “Home sweet home.  Your room’s the one on the right. You can...do whatever you want,” Wasp turned to look at him, and Ironhide suddenly felt the need to improvise, “I mean, as long as it’s reasonable.”

Wasp scoffed, which was different from how he used to do it, Ironhide didn’t remember feeling so hollow after hearing it, before. The mini walked further into the apartment with slow, measured steps, looking around as if he was expecting a trap. For all Ironhide knew, he probably was. He passed the door to his room to check on the nearby windows, pushing them open as far as they would go. He seemed to be taking mental notes on the premises, of what exactly, Ironhide couldn’t tell. (Means for escape, most likely.)

It was okay, it was understandable, even. Ironhide didn’t really want to tell Wasp to stop; he wasn’t going to be someone who policed whatever Wasp did.

“That’s the kitchen, your washracks are right outside your room,” he said instead, loud enough so Wasp could hear as the mech scouted the place, “Mine’s got a tub, if you wanna use it whenever just say the word.”

Wasp emerged from the kitchen and spared Ironhide a brief glance before heading to the door of his room and opened it. He poked his head inside first, before entering.

Ironhide didn’t go in. It was Wasp’s room now, his space; the doctors in the Institute had said something about Wasp needing his own privacy. Just enough privacy for him to relearn about living as an individual in a society. Ironhide just thought that Wasp should do whatever he wanted to, considering how he couldn’t before. Then again, Ironhide wasn’t a medic. He couldn’t actually tell Wasp that he was free to do what he wanted. He’d lose his credibility to take care of Wasp, then, he didn’t want that.

“You can do whatever you want to this room. If you want to go out to town, just tell me. I got you the basic stuff, bleach and cleanser and what not, but y’know,” Ironhide shrugged, “Whatever ya want, tell me.”

Placing the box of his belongings on the berth, Wasp turned to Ironhide. Ironhide had noticed before, the difference in Wasp’s optic color. It had been jarring, the first time he realized. It was simply a reminder, now.

“Wasp’ll...I’ll tell you. If I need anything. Thanks, Ironhide.”

 “No problem, buddy.”

Wasp gave him something that was not quite a smile before closing the door. It made Ironhide feel a little at ease, anyway.

//

Things weren’t going very well.

In retrospect, Ironhide had thought that he was ready for every possible situation that could have arose after Wasp started living with him. He still _was,_ kind of, but he also felt as if he was doing a terrible job as a caretaker. Things could have been a lot worse, sure. Wasp could have rejected him entirely and snuck out one of the windows during the night cycle, and was never found ever again.

Wasp didn’t do that. Instead, Wasp kept to himself. He refuelled only when Ironhide reminded him to, didn’t speak much, and when he did it was usually to sneer at Ironhide. It wasn’t his previous mean streak that Ironhide could still remember; his words now had a bitter edge to them, sharp, meant to hurt. Understandable, given the circumstances. Things could have been worse.

Ironhide didn’t feel good about it, either way. He found Wasp in the kitchen one morning, poking an energon cube open with a kitchen knife. He greeted the mini hello and Wasp had whirled around so fast he’d have snapped something, knife brandished as a weapon. Wasp’s optics were unnaturally bright and wild, and it took him a few seconds to put the knife down, realizing who he was looking at.

They didn’t talk about that incident.

Ironhide felt like he should do something, anything at all, but he didn’t know what. It’s been 7 cycles since Wasp lived with him, and after Wasp’s latest check-up, the Institute deemed him fit enough to be left alone in closed quarters. Which meant Ironhide could come into work, which was where he was at the moment. He was worried, of course. Worried for or of what specifically, he wasn’t sure yet.

Someone tapped at his shoulder, and he looked up from the desk he was sitting at. Hot Shot stood before him, grinning. “Hey. Got you something from Eskabar.” A little trinket was dangling from his other hand, some smallish plaque with the words ‘Got kicked out from a bar in eskaBAR!!’ in a fancy font. Ironhide chuckled, plucking it from Hot Shot’s hand.

“Thanks. ‘S real cute.”

“So when are you gonna come along for missions again? Warpath’s great and all but he’s kinda...red. You’re orange.”

Ironhide snorted, and noticed Red Alert enter their office as well, so he lifted up a hand and waved a little. “Uh, in 5 cycles? I think.”

Red Alert approached his desk, made a point to nudge Hot Shot for fun. She seemed concerned, though, “How are things?”

He knew what she was asking about, “Not bad. Pretty good, actually.” She folded her arms, and Ironhide reiterated, “So I’m not so sure if I’m helping or making things worse. Or doing nothing, for that matter. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does,” Red Alert frowned, while Hot Shot looked puzzled, “Has he said anything that made you think that you might not be helping him?”

“Oh, yeah! You took Wasp in. I totally forgot, that’s what this is about, right?” Hot Shot exclaimed; Red Alert elbowed him again.

Ironhide smiled a little, “Yeah. Also no, Red, he hadn’t. Or at least, not that I remember. Maybe I just didn’t notice? Y’know how I get sometimes.”

“True,” she said, “But you seem like you’re quite tuned into his moods. Or else you wouldn’t be worried in the first place. You’re observant when you want to be.”

“And you don’t notice slag when you don’t want to, too,” Hot Shot continued, shrugging, “Pretty sure that you’re doing fine, if he hasn’t tried to leave yet.”

Red Alert hummed, “Hot Shot has a point. There’s dos and don’ts to taking care of someone with Wasp’s experiences, but there’s no exact guideline for it. You learn along the way.”

“It’s that simple?” Ironhide leaned back in his chair, “What if I frag up? There’s no learning from that, is there? They’ll take him back into the Institute and he’ll never trust me ever again.”

His teammates looked worried. Even Hot Shot, who was the epitome of recklessness and being young, and Ironhide felt a little pathetic. It was Hot Shot who spoke up, though, “Mech, you’re not that bad a guy. I mean, there’s no telling what’s gonna happen in the future. But right now you’re being as careful as you can be; you’re _really_ trying not to frag up. So keep doing that. It’s a step up from staying in a hospital for Primus knows how long, for Wasp.”

Red Alert gave Hot Shot an amused look, and nodded, “That’s true, too. Hot Shot’s on a roll today.”

Ironhide and Red Alert laughed, while Hot Shot huffed in embarrassment, and the medic addressed Ironhide seriously, “You’ll always worry. That won’t go away, at least not for quite a while. That’s alright, it’s important to worry. Try not to overwhelm yourself. If you need any assistance, I’m always available. Alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Red Alert. You too, Hot Shot,” Ironhide exhaled, smiling a little. He still didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t feel like everything was hopeless.

Hot Shot made an offended noise, “Wait, so you’re giving Ironhide free medical advice and not me? Talk about unfair!”

Red Alert rolled her optics so deliberately, Ironhide had to laugh.

//

Ironhide exited his room, dumbbells in hand. Routine was routine, some things Ironhide would never ditch, even if he was preoccupied with much more important matters. But said matters weren’t anything he could actively change in fear of ruining things beyond repair, so Ironhide decided to follow his teammates’ advice and just...roll with it. As long as Wasp was okay.

Said mech was still in his room. Ironhide sat down in his ratty living room couch, took the time to switch on the television before picking up his dumbbells again. It had been a while since he just sat here, watching TV. He did reps of 35 lifts for each arm, as Rosanna sang on the screen before him.

He noticed Wasp’s door open from the corner of his optics, and didn’t stop lifting his weights. It seemed ridiculous, but he didn’t want to scare Wasp away. Wasp walked to the living room soon enough, and Ironhide tore his gaze away from the TV screen to smile at his friend, “Hey buddy.”

Wasp nodded in reply, taking in the sight of Ironhide’s dumbbells, then the show on the screen, “You’re exercising?”

“Yeah. Been slacking on my regime, actually. You wanna join me? I’ve got equipment in my room.”

Wasp smirked, “I’m plenty fit. Have to be, when you’re on the run for the longest time.”

Ironhide was unsure how to react, as he had been, every time Wasp brought up something about his past. He decided to wing it, smiling in return, “The thing about exercise is that you always gotta keep doing it, maintain it. You’re not on the run anymore. Feel free to use my stuff if you want.”

Wasp seemed to consider it, then shrugged, “Maybe next time.” He moved even closer, and then dropped himself on the couch, next to Ironhide. Ironhide tried _really_ hard not to let his joy show.

“Who’s this? They’re pretty cute.”

“Rosanna,” Ironhide placed a dumbbell down, stretching an arm for a moment, “She’s a big hit nowadays. She can sing, for sure.”

“Mm,” Wasp folded his arms, seemingly fixated on the TV. Ironhide picked up his dumbbell again, slow and steady, as if a single wrong gesture could make Wasp leave.

They sat in silence for a while. Ironhide wondered if it was going to feel like this every time they were in the same space, if Ironhide was going to act like he was walking through a field of land mines, every time.

“’Hide?”

He looked at Wasp carefully, no sudden movements, “Yeah?”

“How much are you getting for this?”

Ironhide was puzzled, “What?”

“For, this,” Wasp gestured vaguely around them, “Taking Wasp in. How much?”

“Nothing, actually. They don’t give out money when someone gets outta the Institute, Wasp.”

“So why’d you take me in? From the goodness of your spark?”

He was sneering, again. In that new, sharp, bitter way of his. Ironhide inhaled quietly, his words coming out as a breath, “Guilt, probably. I figured that I could do it; I’ve got space enough for two. I knew you. That’s all I went on, to be honest.”

Wasp raised an optic ridge, seemingly skeptical, but Ironhide could take skepticism. That was somewhat familiar. “Typical,” Wasp said, “You’ve never really been good at planning ahead.”

Ironhide chuckled, he couldn’t really help it. Wasp was bringing up the past. _Their_ past. It filled him with relief. Wasp was looking at him like he had lost his mind.

“Hey listen. I don’t have work in two cycles. We could go somewhere in the city, or wherever you want. Alright?”

The mini said nothing for a few seconds, simply stared as if judging his intentions. Ironhide tamped his discomfort down hard. He wanted to do this; he wanted Wasp’s trust again, no matter what the cost. Things might never be the same as before, but he was going to _try._ Anything Wasp wanted, everything he could do to make amends.

There was no telling Wasp all of this, in case he took it as something else entirely, but Ironhide—Ironhide could hope.

Wasp stood up, arms around himself. His paintjob was different, as were his optics, but the way he held himself reminded Ironhide of how Wasp used to do the same thing before, coming off as confident, almost cocky. Ironhide now realized that maybe that was exactly the way Wasp wanted to look to the public eye. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling confident at all, when he held himself like this.

“I’ll think about it,” Wasp said, and left the living room. He stopped halfway and didn’t bother turning around, “Thanks.” For what, he didn’t specify.

Ironhide watched him return to his room, closing the door without looking back.

He exhaled long and slow, calming himself down. He was slightly overwhelmed. Ironhide didn’t know what was going to happen. Everything was possible.

He let himself smile anyway, because the emotion overwhelming him felt like hope.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mnemonic.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301298) by [MercuryMapleKey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/pseuds/MercuryMapleKey)




End file.
